


Mushroom Punches II: Revenge of the Portabella

by CinnamonQuartz



Series: Mushroom Punches [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Love, Romance, sex in the grass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24043183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnamonQuartz/pseuds/CinnamonQuartz
Summary: Boss? Pretty great. Roommates? Still loud. Job? Perfect. Her boyfriend? Amazing... except for when he acts like a dud.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Series: Mushroom Punches [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734322
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	Mushroom Punches II: Revenge of the Portabella

**Author's Note:**

  * For [checkered_roses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkered_roses/gifts).



Pansy moaned with pleasure as her darling boyfriend, Neville, dug fingers deep into the tense muscles of her back. Her job as a Spore Specialist turned Potion Brewer had her working on her feet more than she did when she worked in the same office as Neville. And while she loved working for Lloyd Greenaway, her new boss, and she loved using her knowledge of all things fungus to brew, she did not love the sudden aches in her back.

"That feels so-oo-oo good, Nev," she moaned again. Little by little, the muscles relaxed until she melted into the bed. His bed. In his house. Away from her loud as hell roommates Daphne and Tracey.

The sheets were flannel and beyond comfortable and warm. Above the bed was a tall window draped with sheer yellow curtains and soft faery lights that set exactly the type of mood she wanted.

Laying around, getting a massage, and not doing anything as the sun set for the day. And apparently, after her massage, Neville planned on whipping up a dinner for two.

Yep. Life was good lately.

Her new job was satisfying and kept her challenged, so she didn't get too bored. Neville was an angel every day of the week. Their love life had taken quite the glorious turn when they started sleeping together.

"Go under the shirt," she asked, as nicely as she could, resting her head on her arms which were folded beneath her.

And was rewarded with strong, sturdy fingers slowly sliding underneath the silk of her work blouse for it. He pressed into her back, skin to skin, and continued to rub away the tension.

"Oh, Nev…" she couldn't stop moaning! If only she knew what life would be like with the shy Spore Specialist Neville Longbottom a long time ago. She wouldn't have wasted so much time dating total losers.

"You need new shoes, love," he told her. He sat overtop her, knees straddling her sides as he worked. "Want me to buy them for you?"

"Nope," she breathed out. "But you can come with me when I buy them for myself because I'm filthy rich now."

She heard a small laugh come from him, but it was full of warmth. It was mostly due to Neville's efforts that her financial situation was much more improved than it had been a short few months ago. She joked all the time about her giant pile of gold sitting in Gringotts, but truth was she couldn't bear to spend any of it. Too long spent living paycheck to paycheck, going without meals, and struggling to pay essential bills had her afraid.

Afraid of becoming one of those idiots who acquired a large sum of money and managed to spend it all in time just to end up back in the terrible situation they'd been in to begin with.

Pansy didn't want to be in poverty ever again. But maybe spending the extra gold on a nice pair of shoes for work wouldn't be too bad? Maybe. "And by that, I mean I need you to make sure I don't spend all my money."

"You've mentioned that before," he said, massaging higher up her back. He reached her bra strap and paused. "On or off?"

"Mmm, take it off baby," she mumbled, her brain shutting down in pure relaxation.

"This humble man does as he's told," he teased, gently unclasping her bra and pushing the straps aside. "If you took your shirt off I could get your shoulders."

"Banish it," she demanded. "I don't even care. I can't move."

"I will not banish your shirt, Pans."

"Ugh, why not? Don't make me move," she complained.

"Um… _becauseIloveyouinthatshirt_ …"

Grinning, she peeked over her shoulder at him. "I'm sorry what?"

"Nothing," he said, reaching for his wand.

"No, wait, I missed what you said," she rolled over, their legs tangling up slightly.

"I didn't say anything," he insisted, cheeks turning red.

"You said you… looove me?" Pansy reached forward, grabbing onto his own shirt. Demanding his attention.

"I said I love you," he smiled a smitten smile, cheeks turning ever redder. "In that shirt."

Of course he did. He loved the color red, and slowly over the months, her wardrobe had turned more and more into that very color. Her current silk blouse was a deep rouge red with capped sleeves and did something fancy that made her waist seem slimmer.

"This shirt?" she asked, bringing a finger up the top button. She popped it open when he didn't respond. "You love it so much, I'd hate to damage it. Maybe you could remove it for me?"

Nodding, breath gone wildly uneven, he leaned forward and came onto his knees, reaching out to gently undo the buttons on her blouse. One by one, with excruciating slowness. He watched her eyes the entire time, as he usually did whenever they were intimate.

Like she was precious to him.

A definite change from those aforementioned losers she used to date.

While he unbuttoned her work shirt, she returned the favor by unbuttoning his. Giddy with anticipation. So far, their intimate nights together had been of the slow variety.

Slow didn't mean bad. Slow with Neville meant deep. And intense. She imagined one day they would have wild, tear-each-other's-clothes-off kind of sex. Break the bed maybe. But he was getting her addicted to his kind of languid intimacy where every move he made he took with great care.

After he finished with her buttons, Neville pushed her blouse down over her shoulders with gentle movement, caressing her arms with the back of his fingers as he did. Up and down until goosebumps broke out across her neck. Reaching out to pull her already unclasped bra, he leaned in and pressed lips into hers.

Taking her breath.

Making her falter on his own buttons. Damn man was so distracting. Top unclothed, he began working on the button of her slacks, not stopping their kiss while he did.

It spurred her to finish removing his shirt, jerking at the buttons as their kiss deepened. She came up on her own knees, feeling him pulling down her zipper as she pushed his shirt away and reached for the bottom of his white undershirt. They parted just long enough for her to pull it over his head, messing up his hair a bit.

"Lay down," he said, pulling at her belt loops.

She sat back on her butt, pushing down her slacks as he pulled, until she lay back wearing only her silky panties. Neville tossed her slacks over the edge of the bed and crawled towards her, wearing only his own work jeans.

Looking yummy.

"Turn over," he insisted, pushing on her hip.

"Oh?" her breath caught again but she flipped over, taking a note out of his playbook and doing it slooooowly. Letting him get his fill of her bare skin.

Looking at him over her shoulder. "You know we can't do this thing until you take your pants off, right?"

"Huh, I had no idea," he grinned. He learned that sass from her, she had no one to blame but herself. Then, coming over as she lay flat, face down on his bed, he moved the short strands of her hair to the side and began kissing the back of her neck. His hands massaging her back again. But this time it wasn't about working the tension from her muscles.

Nope. This time he was feeling her up with both hands, up and down her bare back as he pressed wet kisses into the back of her neck and shoulders. Slowly, he lowered down on top of her, jeans pressing into her back legs and pushing against her silk panties.

"This is horrible," she moaned. "Absolutely the worst…"

She was totally lying. She could do this all the time. Sex with Neville was quickly becoming her favorite thing. Even better than food.

"I can tell," he started, kissing down the back column of her neck and coming around her front. Hitting every wonderfully sensitive spot he could. "That you're having a bad time…"

"Yeah," she gasped loudly as his hands rubbed up and down her sides, fingers brushing the sides of her breasts as his mouth sucked on her neck. "Terrible, just terrible."

He pulled back, allowing her the chance to roll over on her back, and started unzipping his jeans and tugging them downwards. She just caught the sight of a bulge in his briefs when they heard it—a knock at the door.

They both froze. Waiting. Praying it would go away… when it happened again.

"Grrrr…" Pansy hopped up and grabbed his discarded work shirt, buttoning up the front quickly. "I'll take care of this…"

"Oh, wait, hold on Pansy," Neville tripped over his jeans as he tried to follow her from the bedroom but she was already down the hallway and taking the stairs.

Pansy opened the door, licking her lips and wearing nothing but Neville's button-up that covered her down to mid-thigh. To see none other than Hannah Abbott-Macmillan on the other side.

The witch who was Neville's ex, infamous ex, and just so happened to be much taller than Pansy. Leaner too. Her blonde hair tumbled down in stellar waves. She looked like a total babe. And her baby blues widened at the sight of Pansy.

"What are you doing here?" she asked rudely.

"What does it look like, Abbott?" Pansy sneered. She'd been working on being a lot nicer lately, trying to tone back the crankiness. But Hannah had once upon a time broken Neville's heart and publicly dumped him in front of all his friends and family and old schoolmates.

If anyone deserved Pansy's crankiness, it was this witch right here.

"I'm trying to get my rock's off, what are you doing here? That's the better question."

Hannah sneered right back. "I'm looking for Neville."

"Well," Pansy laughed, tossing her head back. "He's busy. I'd say try again later, but we'll probably still be busy then too. Sorry."

Did she sound like a bitch? Yep. Good.

She attempted to slam the door but Neville finally made it down the stairs behind her. "Hannah…?"

"Nevvy," Hannah's lip trembled. "Can we talk?"

Pansy couldn't believe the audacity. And also… 'Nevvy'? Really? Couldn't she see that her and Neville were clearly in the middle of something? He was Pansy's boyfriend now, sucker! She gave him up. Her bloody loss. Did she really think Neville would just stop and—

"Yeah…" he said. "Come in."

_Come in!?_

Pansy turned to look at Neville, fully aware that her jaw was on the floor. But he wasn't even looking at her. His eyes only on Hannah, who looked downright plum happy at his invitation.

She watched them head off towards the kitchen without a backwards glance in her direction, without closing the door. He wasn't even wearing a shirt, just walking around all fine as hell in his jeans… and he was just… walking off with another woman?!

What about her?!

In a numb daze, Pansy walked back upstairs and to Neville's bedroom, bending down to pick up her clothes. Was she the idiot? They called him Clueless Neville Longbottom after that whole Memoriam spectacle, where Hannah had turned down Neville's proposal in front of everyone and then immediately turned around and got engaged to Ernie Macmillan, but right then, she felt like the Clueless one.

Why did she only date total _losers_?!

Pansy arrived back at her townhouse she shared with Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis. Her roommates, her chosen sisters, her only friends. They all drove each other nuts but it was out of love. Really.

But tonight she was in the worst mood she'd been in in ages.

Which is why she slammed the door after her arrival. "That man is dead to me!" she shouted at her housemates. "DEAD."

"Uh oh, what happened?" Tracey asked, standing up to catch the gossip. "Can't be that bad, you're still wearing his shirt."

"Can't be that bad? Can't be that bad?"

"It can't be worse than finding your ex, Joel, in bed with that blonde?" Daphne said, joining in.

"No?" Pansy kicked at the trash can. "No? How about, literally moments from happy-happy-sexy-time and who knocks on the door?"

"No."

"Don't say it."

"Can't be."

"You're kidding?!"

"Hannah Freaking Abbott-Macmillan! And worse-"

"Worse?!"

"Can't be worse!"

Pansy held a hand to shut them up. "She asked to come in to 'talk' and he LET HER IN?! What the fuck?! Am I dreaming? I thought he was one of the good ones?! He didn't even look at me. He just took her into the kitchen. He probably doesn't even realize I'm gone."

Her jaw was on the floor again, reliving the utter shock of it all.

"Yep, he's dead." Tracey made a throat cut motion with her hand.

"Yeah, honey, if he comes around here, we'll take care of him for you." Daphne made a fist and a smushing motion.

"I mean… we're all just fucked, aren't we? Everything could be going along just swimmingly and then _BAM_. Ex-girlfriend. Drama. 'Let's talk'?!"

Pansy stomped her frustrated self into the kitchen and started banging cabinets, looking for stress carbs.

"I told you dating him was a bad idea," Tracey said, hoping up on the bar top. "Too much emotional baggage."

"Yeah but he's been soo sweet," Daphne argued. "If I may play Devil's Advocate here, are you sure there hasn't been a misunderstanding here, Pans? Like when you thought he stood you up?"

"You mean when you two kept him from meeting me for our date?" Pansy found a giant bag of cheese puffs. Fuck her hips. It was time to stress eat this entire bag. And fuck Neville too. Fuck Hannah Abbott. Seriously! "She was such a brat in school, what could he possibly see in her?"

Then she shoved 5 giant puffs right into her mouth and angrily chewed on them. Grrrrr!

"Okay," Tracey went wide-eyed, gingerly taking the bag from her. "Why don't you go take a shower and I will make some dinner after you've had a chance to cool off. Okay? Okay. Daph?"

"Got it," her other roommate came forward and took Pansy's shoulders in each hand, guiding her towards the bathroom. "Deep breaths, love. In and out. Innnnnn …. And…. ooouuuutt."

Pansy went with Daphne into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub. It was only when Daphne knelt before her and began wiping her cheeks with a cool towel that she realized she was crying.

"Did that really just happen, Daph?"

.

Pansy had only been working with Lloyd for just over 5 months, but he was more than happy to give her the week off. "No need to explain, Pansy! Everyone needs personal time occasionally."

Was Lloyd the best boss in the entire world? Yep. 100%.

Too bad he was happily married with kids. She would definitely date Lloyd. Even though he was like… old. Whatever. She took her sudden vacation and decided she was back to being cranky.

Men sucked and she was done with dating. What was the point if all it had in store for her was heartbreak and betrayal? And unlike Daphne's cheerfully optimistic wishes, there was no misunderstanding here.

Neville straight up, without a doubt, chose Hannah over her.

So fuck him.

She got dressed instead of moping around in her pjs and wandered into the living room. Daphne often worked weekends but Tracey lay across the couch, reading a magazine, and munching on carrots.

Pansy's carrots.

"Hey, wanna go spend a shit ton of money on useless clothes that will most likely stay in our closets forever?"

Tracey dropped her magazine and hopped up without a second's hesitation. "Hell yes I do, let's go."

Woo hoo! This is what they needed. They grabbed frothy coffees and sugary scones and hit up every store in the entire country. Not really. But Pansy got new work shoes and plain black socks as her one responsible purchase, then she went nuts.

Boots, heels, stockings, skirts, dresses. She bought new bras and make-up. A new winter cloak. And none of it in the color red.

They shopped so much they had to take a break to eat. Their items levitated happily behind them as they cruised down the street afterwards. "What do you want to buy now?"

"Um, I think I'm tapped, Pansy," Trace told her with a grimace. There's only so much debt I can go into for your post-break up therapy."

"You know the real kicker? I barely made a dent in the gold I got. I thought I could… shop harder? I feel like a huge failure."

Tracey laughed, tugging her in the direction of the Apparation point. Time to go home. "You're not a failure, Pansy."

"Aren't I?"

"Did you do anything wrong in the relationship?"

"I don't know, I must have!"

Clearly. Neville just… he just walked away.

"No, no you didn't do anything wrong," Tracey argued, pausing them right before the gate. "It sucks that it's over, it sucks that Nev did that to you, but the relationship was nice wasn't it? Dinner dates and good sex? Right?"

"Yeah…" Pansy didn't like where this was going. Had Tracey taken after Daphne and turned optimistic all the sudden? "I guess…"

"Then it was worth it, even though it didn't last. And hopefully your next relationship will be even better."

Pansy blinked several times. Then she fake gagged. "Get real Trace, are you kidding? I was counting on you to have my back and instead you're spewing all this healthy advice at me?! You want me to deal with this in a mature fashion?! Wrong. I expected better from you."

Shaking her head, Pansy stepped through the gate and Apparated on the spot, her giant shopping trip in tow. Disappointed didn't cover it. Tracey talked about Nev like he was this thing in her past. Like it was all over?

Pansy certainly wasn't going to forgive him. Ever. But she couldn't believe that their relationship was just… over. Not yet. Or was it?

She made it home in time to see their landlord, Clifford, putting up a for sale sign in the tiny yard in front of their townhouse.

"Uh, Cliffie? What's up?" Pansy asked, stopping dead.

"Sellin' this piece of junk, what does it look like I'm doin'?" he yammered.

"Were you going to tell us, your tenants, that you were 'sellin' this piece of junk' That piece of junk that we _live in_?" Pansy crossed her arms, adding inner rage to her bitter disappointment.

"Maybe," he grunted, stepping back to observe his sign. "If I was you ladies, I'd start lookin' for a new place of residence."

What. The. Fuck.

Could anything go right in her life for one goddamn moment?!

.

Monday came, the first 'day' of her vacation. It was strange not to go to work, stranger to watch Tracey and Daphne go without her. She hadn't heard from Neville all weekend and Pansy had concocted at least 100 different scenarios about what happened after she left his house.

Half of them involved his sudden and inevitable demise. Fire featured predominantly in her murderous fantasies. One well placed meteor occupied her mind for at least half an hour.

The best one however was where she killed him, and used his body to grow massive Portabellas. Like bus sized. _HUGE_.

The other half were worse… him and Hannah… doing it. Everywhere. It was 9:30 in the morning and she was halfway through the giant bag of cheese puffs when she had another thought.

What if they were still there?

Because that's what her brain did. She took situations that were already bad and found a way to make them worse. Her expected all-weekend-fuck-fest was being enjoyed by Hannah freaking Abbott? Who was supposed to be married to Ernie Macmillan but what Pansy knew of that witch's character made her doubt Hannah's fidelity.

Sorry Ernie.

She just expected better from Neville... She really was Clueless.

When she finished the cheese puffs and started on a bag of chocolate covered pretzels, Pansy felt herself spiraling off the deep end. Stress eating… and imagining all the ways Neville and Hannah were fucking.

In the bed. On the dresser. In the tub…

Oh. On _their bench_!?

Pansy paused mid chew, thinking of the romantic mushroom garden Neville built by his greenhouse. And the bench beside it that they constantly made out on. And had sex on twice.

"Love is a scam!" she shouted to the empty house. Taking off work was a terrible idea. She had nothing to do but sit around. Eat. And think about Neville and Hannah having sex. And she was about to be homeless?

What a crap life she led.

Pansy hopped up and stashed the pretzels away before she ate them all too. She was standing in the kitchen, munching on a bagel when the front door jiggled a bit. Maybe Daphne was home early?

She poked her head out from the kitchen and watched the door creep open slowly. "Hello?"

Oh hell no. That man was not coming into her house. Pansy whipped her wand out, half a bagel still in her mouth, and she froze the door before it could open any further. Neville was halfway through and the result was he got stuck.

"Pansy! What are you doing?"

" _I'mstoppingyoubeforeyoucomeinhere_!" she shouted, the bagel seriously ruining the kind of mood she wanted to set. She was trying to be serious here.

"Wait-what?" he looked at her, trying to pull himself through the tiny gap. But the door was frozen in just the right place to keep him from getting unstuck. "Why did you trap me?!"

She swallowed. "Because of your sudden but inevitable betrayal? Get away from me. Go to work."

"That's why I'm here," his face went wild with uncertainty. He acted like he hadn't a clue why she was being so insane. "You weren't at work. Lloyd said you asked for some personal time and I didn't see you at all this weekend."

"Oh. Weird. I wonder why that is?" she put a finger on her chin. "Hmm. Maybe because you ditched me for your ex, Hannah Abbott?! Remember that? How's the sex been this weekend? I hope it was good. For you. And Hannah. You and Hannah!" Her voice suddenly got a lot shriller. "You. And. HAN-NAH."

She was spiraling. Hard. "Good luck getting out of that door! By the way, you can break it if you want! Cliff is selling this place so I'm about to be homeless anyways!"

Then she stomped away, slamming her bedroom door before she started crying. She shoved shopping bags and piles of clothes and shoes out of the way and flopped down onto her bed, hands over her face, stomach aching because she ate way, way too much. It was the one thing she didn't want to do when she finally faced Neville.

Cry.

She didn't want him seeing that. But her eyes were watering despite her best efforts.

It took about 15 minutes, time in which she had a proper cry, before he came through her door. Slightly huffy. "What happened here?" he asked, looking around.

"None of your business," she snapped, her throat closed up from all her damn crying.

He had to wade carefully through the giant mess of her room and then kind of jump to the bed, where he then shoved through a mass of shopping bags. "Pansy, talk to me," he sounded so concerned. "Why do you think I was with Hannah all weekend?"

She sat up and pushed her back all the way against the wall. "Weren't you?"

"God no," he insisted. "No. Is that why you left on Friday? I mean I turned around and you were just gone."

"Duh?" she held her hands up. "What did you expect?"

"Hannah asked to talk, we talked, she left. And then I realized you left too," he looked hurt by it.

"You don't see my problem there? Neville?"

He sat back, confused and looking distraught.

"You and I were in the middle of something," she grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and wiped her nose.

"What was I supposed to do?" he asked. "Turn her away?"

"Yeah! Yes! Duh. You chose her over me. We were having sex and we stopped so you could go talk to your ex-girlfriend. That is not okay with me, Neville."

"What are you saying, Pansy?"

"I'm saying…" she took a shuddering breath in. "I'm saying I don't trust you. I'm saying it's over. "

.

One very cranky month later, Lloyd appeared by her brewing station on a busy Wednesday morning. She hadn't noticed him at first, having to concentrate on her potion. All week she'd been testing the magical properties of Emoritas in a brewing capacity, and it was pushing her past cranky and into downright pissed off. Firstly, she was clearly missing something.

The Emoritas molecule structure indicated it would be effective when paired with Bitterroot Oil. Yet all her tinkering resulted in nothing but a big splotchy mess that made her throw out two cauldrons already.

Secondly, the healthy red caps reminded her too much of You-Know-Who. And she wasn't talking about stupid, no-nose Voldemort either. Worse, she knew he was the one that grew these, because all her samples came from his office. She used to think that was adorable.

Now she wanted to scream at the sight of even one tiny mushroom. See the problem? She was a damn Spore Specialist! She only worked with mushrooms and other fungus!

She'd been so in her own head it had taken Lloyd three throat clears to catch her attention.

"Pansy?" he called gently, waving a hand in front of her face.

"Dear Lord, Lloyd, I'm so sorry," she started to explain that she wasn't ignoring him, just concentrating intensely.

"No worries," he brushed it off with a hand wave. Then he pretended to be stern. "How dare you focus on your work, Ms. Parkinson."

Laughing, Pansy pulled over her chair and offered it to him, which he declined. "How can I help you, boss?"

"It's time for your 6 month review, are you free for lunch? I'm good anytime this week, just needs to be done by Friday."

Pansy adored having Lloyd as her boss. He was the exact opposite of her old supervisor, Dewey. Dewey would have forced her into the review no matter what she was in the middle of, no matter how inconvenient of a time it was. Then he would have gotten mad at her for being behind, not understanding he was the bloody reason for it.

"Lunch sounds great, I need to take a break from this anyways."

They walked down the street together, speaking of office news and current projects in a cordial, easy going manner that immediately put Pansy at ease. Lloyd had always been easy to speak to. It made it so much easier to be his employee when she wasn't dreading having to talk to or spend any time with him. They entered a popular cafe and ordered lunch together. She got a salad and pretended it was delicious, eyeing up the stack of chocolate chip cookies longingly when they walked by.

Her post breakup diet had been atrocious and if that muffin top on her belly got any bigger she was going to have to buy a whole new set of clothing.

Finally, taking a seat in a quiet corner, Lloyd dug in and waited patiently for her to finish before taking out a single sheet of paper.

"Is that it?" she eyed it up.

"Yes, just a few notes I had before I fill out the official form. Want to read it? There isn't much," he smiled pleasantly. "I'll read it out loud. It says, 'Parkinson. Very satisfied with quality of work—but clearly traumatized from previous employment.' What are your thoughts?"

"Uh..." she blinked several times, mouth suddenly going dry. Feeling gobsmacked. "I mean you're right. I'm not going to talk poorly about my old boss to my new boss, but you two are night and day, Lloyd. And I feel like I can be more productive because I'm not in constant fear of being reprimanded for small things or things I have no control over."

"And as your supervisor, I excel when my employees excel. A safe, trusting work environment is the first step to achieving that. I think you fit right in to my department, Ms. Parkinson. And I wanted to open up the floor to any questions or concerns you had for me, as your boss."

"I thought this was my review, Lloyd?"

"It is. If you're unhappy in your position, the first thing I ask myself is what I can do to correct that. If there's nothing I can do, then we can work on moving you to somewhere you'll be more comfortable with. As I said, I think the quality of your work is satisfactory. I just can't help but notice lately you've seemed a bit... blue. And I wonder if that is because of work, or something else."

Oh drats. She thought she'd been pretty normal at work. Just cranky. "It's not work, Lloyd. I apologize. It's definitely personal stuff and I'm doing my best not to let it interfere with my job, I promise. I love my job. I don't want to go somewhere else, and I certainly don't want to go work for someone else."

"Alright. I'm glad to hear it, Pansy. Usually, you have to work for the department for at least a year before we issue any pay raises, but since you've technically worked with the company for five years now, I went ahead and submitted a request for a bump in your salary, which was approved this morning."

Lloyd took out another piece of parchment and a feathered quill, sliding both across the table to her. Pansy once again found herself gobsmacked. Lloyd must've really meant it when he said he liked her work. She signed the form immediately.

"I'm not looking for perfect robots who clock in at the same time every day. I'm looking for people who want to make a difference in science and potion brewing." Lloyd gave her a little wink before walking her back to the office.

She adored that man. Shrugging into her lab coat, Pansy took a deep, steadying breath and looked down at her mess of Emoritas and Bitterroot oil. The oil should bring out the effectiveness of the Emoritas! Yet nothing was working. Neville might know what to do, and though it had been a month since they broke up, her heart still ached for missing that man despite her brain telling her he deserved a fiery death.

Oh. Then she had a thought.

She bent over the cauldron, wand in hand, and introduced a low electrical current to the Emoritas. And watched as it reacted immediately.

.

The three of them went to dinner. Daphne, Tracey, and Pansy. All dressed up, cute strappy heels, make-up on. The whole nine yards. It wasn't a special occasion or anything. It was a Friday night and all three witches were single and sick of men.

And also, starving. And on the verge of homelessness. The For Sale sign in their tiny itty-bitty front yard seemed a looming threat every time they walked by it and none of them had any luck finding a new place to live that had the same amount of space and wasn't stupidly expensive.

Pansy feared their time together was at an end. They were going to have to split up or break down and rent a smaller space. Their current living arrangement was maddening enough. She just couldn't imagine having to put up with Daphne and Tracey in an even smaller house.

With her recent raise though, maybe it was time she lived alone. Something she dreamed of in the past, but now faced with the real possibility of it made her sadder than expected.

"I thought I found a place," Daphne told them, stuffing her face with chips and salsa. "The ad read 3 bedrooms, 2 full baths, and open wide spaces. But when I went to scope it out, it actually was 2 bedrooms, a closet with a toilet, and a living room with a cot."

"Ugh, that's not as bad as mine," Tracey groaned in absolute agony. "Rustic cottage with quaint country charm sounds great until you realize it's a hellmouth of roaches and tiny, tiny closets."

"Ewww," Pansy shivered at the mere thought. Then ordered another margarita. "Roaches bad. Tiny closet? Really bad."

"Yeah, with your recent shopping habits we'll need better closet space," Daphne teased.

"I'm done with the stress shopping," Pansy declared. "I can only own so many shoes."

"Blasphemy!" Tracey cried, then brought attention to the heels on her feet.

"Those are mine, Trace!" Pansy threw a chip at her. "Damn, maybe we should live separately."

"It was bound to happen eventually," Daphne sniffed sadly. "We just thought-"

Her and Tracey looked at each other before biting their lips.

"Thought what?" Pansy asked, drinking her alcohol way too fast to be safe. Oh well. If she drunkenly splinched herself going home, it was fate and meant to happen. "What did you think? Tell me."

"We thought," Tracey winced. "That you would end up moving in with Neville."

"Oh."

Well she might have thought the same thing too. Except that whole thing went up in flames. Because it was all over the news.

Hannah was divorcing Ernie and everyone seemed to be wondering what Neville had to say about it. She caught him in the hallway going to lunch just the other week. The media had been following him as he ran away in terror.

She thought the mere sight should've made her laugh. But it just made her angry. Neville's fame came from his role in the war, and he hated it. Hated the attention and hated what he went through. It messed him up and no one seemed to care about it. They just wanted the juicy gossip on Clueless Neville Longbottom.

But now Hannah was a free woman. Maybe that's why the bitch—oops, she meant witch!—went to see Neville that night. Maybe he could get his girl back.

"Maybe, love finds a way?" she suggested, and immediately gagged. "Ugh, now I've got The Optimism. Why am I thinking about him and Hannah together? I hope they get hit by a flaming meteor that destroys the earth."

"Oof, that's not terrifying." Daphne winced again. "But really, maybe love does find a way."

"Don't make her cranky, Daph," Tracey warned.

"I'm not talking about him and Hannah. I'm talking about him and Pansy. Are you sure you two can't work it out?"

"I did not get this dressed up to come out and talk about Neville, Daphne. Do as I say. _Shut. Up_."

"Fine, fine," Daphne threw her hands in the air. "We won't talk about him. Let's get drunk."

"Oooh, I vote drunk," Tracey said quickly. "Drunk drunk!"

"Yesss!" Pansy yelled for the waiter. Ordered them all 2 shots a piece. And another round of margaritas. "This is the best idea _everrrrrr_!"

…

It was actually the worst idea in the history of the world. Because an hour after dinner, Pansy found herself stupid drunk from drinking too much too quickly, and stumbling up the pathway to Neville's place. The stone path lit with soft lights didn't help her coordination whatsoever. Heels in hand, she banged on the door.

"Open up, dummy head," she shouted, unable to feel her face.

It was important that she feel her face. She couldn't possibly be so drunk her face was gone. Right? She brought her hand up to find where her face had gone to and accidentally punched herself with her own shoe.

"Ooowww," she stumbled to the side, leaning on Neville's door, rubbing her cheek.

Well now she felt her face.

The door opened.

It wasn't Neville.

It was Ron Weasley. He stood with a beer in hand and an amused look on his face. "Oh. This is gonna be funny. You okay there, Parkinson?"

Pansy pointed at him, shuffling between her feet, trying to find balance. "My face hurts"—hic!—"and you're not Neville. Neville-doesn't-have-red-hair."

"Excellent observation," Ron gave her a thumbs up. "C'mon in, drunk Pansy."

"Don't tell me what to do!"

"Okay, do whatever you want?"

She waited, head spinning slightly, then stepped inside. "I guess I'll come in."

"Awesome," Ron stepped aside. "Hey guys! Guess who's here?"

He walked down the hallway towards the kitchen and she followed, stumbling barefoot and trying not to vomit. They emerged into Neville's open kitchen where there was a round of poker going on. All of Neville's old dormmates sat around a table playing cards and drinking.

Harry Potter, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan all grinned when they spotted her, Ron joining them. Except—no Neville.

"Ugh," she gagged a bit. "It smells like Gryffindor in here. I'm allergic. Oh god, my throat is closing up! Help!"

They all laughed, which only encouraged her. "Sweet mortal life you're slipping through my very fingers as I speak, my tenuous grasp weakening with every second of prolonged exposure ahhhh... HIC!"

Another round of laughter. "Always a pleasure, Pansy," Harry said sweetly.

"Yep—way better than..." Ron slapped a hand over his mouth and everyone stopped smiling.

"Way better than who?" Pansy drunkenly slurred. "Abbott? She's here isn't she? That's where Nev is, right? I don't see him so obviously he's gotta be—HIC—fucking that stupid Hannah Abbott-Macmillillilliian... HIC!"

She waltzed over to the bread cabinet and banged open the door. She grabbed the closest thing—english muffins—and tossed them over her shoulder rudely. "Well you guys can just tell Neville—HIC—that he fucked up! He coulda had THIS!"

Next came the sandwich bread and two boxes of cereal. She opened up a container of dried oatmeal, turned around, and poured it out on the floor, looking Harry Potter right in the eye. "'Cause I woulda married him if he asked and you can tell him I said that! Yeah! You tell him that I. Said. That."

Pansy went to the pantry and swung the door open, spotting the closest thing. A bag of potatoes. She dumped those out too with a, "Fuck them potatoes!"

They rolled across the floor, spreading the dried oatmeal into an even bigger mess, and crushing the bags of cereal. But Pansy wasn't done. For some reason, she thought ruining Neville's food supply would somehow make herself feel better. She went to the refrigerator and grabbed the ketchup. "You guys can tell Neville that I said he's an idiot! A CLUELESS Idiot!" she screamed, turning the bottle upside down and squirting bright red ketchup all over the floor and counters. "If he'd rather have-" SQUIRT! "Blonde, beautiful, successful—HIC—Hannah over ME? FINE!"

SQQQUUUUUUIIRRRTTT.

She ran the ketchup out and dropped the bottle to the floor. "Boom! You can tell him that he coulda had... this..." Pansy put a hand on her chest, suddenly gagging. But it wasn't fake this time... She bent over. And immediately threw up all 4 chicken tacos, 3 margaritas, 2 shots of tequila, and about a kilo chips and salsa that she ate for dinner.

"That's gnarly!" Seamus shouted as all four boys jumped up.

"Oh my god!" Ron looked horrified.

And Harry rushed over to help her, but she couldn't stop vomiting. He pushed the short strands of hair out of her face and held them back for her. Until she stood back up, brain mush, throat clogged up, and feeling like the world's biggest piece of trash.

To see Neville standing in the door, horrified as he looked at his defaced kitchen. "What the fuck!"

.

Pansy woke up the next day and immediately knew that she had done something _bad_. Really bad. One, she was in Neville's bed. And two, there was a Hangover Cure sitting next to her head on the bedside table. Along with a glass of water.

She contemplated taking the Cure. It would make her feel less like a flimsy piece of soggy bread, like she currently did. But it would also restore any forgotten memories from the night before. And she didn't remember much after leaving the restaurant. It couldn't be good.

Nope.

No way.

She hoped Daphne and Tracey made it home safely. If she had been anywhere else... oh no. Reaching out an aching arm, she picked up the Cure and shot it back in one go. The effects were instantaneous. Her body aches faded, her sore throat disappeared, and her cramping stomach settled.

And suddenly she remembered standing in Neville's kitchen, in front of a bunch of his friends, absolutely trashing the place.

Never in her life had she been so mortified. Pansy got up and ran for the bathroom, locking the door and fixing her dress as she did. The sight in the mirror over the sink caused her to scream. "Ahh!"

Her short hair stood up on the right side in the biggest cow lick known to man. Her make-up ran down her face, lipstick smeared to the side like some graceless clown. And wasn't that exactly what she was?

After she was done cleaning the regret off her face and rinsing her mouth for about an hour, Pansy decided it was time to face the music. And she could only hope Neville had suddenly decided to go on vacation for the weekend. Hopefully his friends went with him.

Downstairs the kitchen was spotless, and by the kitchen table were her heels and wand. Waiting for her. She could take them and run.

Move to another country.

Change her name.

That couldn't be too hard...

But it was Saturday and that meant Neville was working in his garden. Probably wearing a pair of jeans and looking a little sweaty. Which made her swoon a bit. She should see it at least once more before she moved to Siberia, right?

She went out through the back door and searched the massive yard for Neville, because ultimately, she needed to apologize. As expected, she found him on his knees, bent over a patch of dirt not far from his mushroom garden, with his gardening gloves on. A bit of dirt on his chin and his neck definitely looking sweaty.

Her damn breath caught, because she was an idiot. And how did she apologize for being a huge bitch?

Wincing, she waited in the sun, watching his backside. "Ahem," she cleared her throat, wishing the earth would swallow her up. Just one good chomp was all it would take.

Neville paused his digging movements, spade in hand, before he turned and looked at her over his shoulder. It seemed like he had to brace for their conversation too. And like her, he wasn't prepared either.

Finally he stood up and came to stand before her. Tight jeans. Wowza. She tried to muster up the courage—no, wait—the ability to even form words. Her brain literally shut down to bare instincts. Her heart still beat and she managed to draw air into her lungs, but that was it. Crickets took up permanent residence in her mind.

Her mouth dropped open. C'mon. Brain. _Say anything_?!

"Um...um...ummmm..."

Neville crossed his arms, and frowned in anger. He was waiting but she couldn't get it out?!

"So..." she winced. She couldn't even think of something sarcastic to say. There would never be a better time for that meteor she'd been fantasizing about to come and strike down. Right there. Where she stood. Please?!

"I'm..." Sorry. Say you're sorry, Pansy! "I'm… gonna... go..."

WHAT.

What was the matter with her? Neville's face turned even more angry as he huffed in frustration. "You know what?" he asked, throwing his gardening gloves to the ground. "Fuck you Pansy."

She sucked in a breath, hand over her heart. "Excuse me?" She taught him that F-word. Now he used it against her?

"You heard me. Fuck. You."

She stopped her foot. "Fuck you, too! I'm trying to find a decent way to apologize and you're cursing my name?"

"Yeah, I am. You know why? Because I'm miserable! I realize what I did was wrong, but you... you just gave up and ignored me—again."

"I... gave up? Is that a joke? You're my longest relationship I've ever had. And, of course I ignored you. _We broke up_!"

"No, you broke up with me!" he shouted. "I didn't break up with you."

Pansy went cross eyed. "That's not how that works, Neville. You break up with someone, you break up. There's no halfway here."

He shook his fists at her, "Ahhhh! I mean that we just stopped talking, stopped everything and I don't get it! I don't have anyone to talk to about the shit going on in my life because-of-you!"

"What don't you get? You hurt me, I broke up with you, it's over. How's that complicated?"

"Because in a real relationship, Pansy, you don't just give up at the first hiccup. You work through it. Not show up at my place, a month later, drunk, and get... _KETCHUP EVERYWHERE_!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Well, ketchup is the least I can do, buddy," she told him, sticking her chin in the air. "You have no idea how cranky I can really get. And let's not forget that it was you who fucked up in the first place. You let Hannah in here and chose her over me. You chose another woman over me. Ketchup doesn't seem that bad after that, does it?!"

"I didn't choose Hannah," he cried out. "Why would I, over you?"

"Oh, let me think," she mocked. "Because she's so tall, and so beautiful, and so successful and then... there's me."

"Now look who's insecure."

Grrrrrr. She hated when he was right! Pansy stomped her foot again. "I am insecure. I'm a chubby little sarcastic demon compared to her. And she's free now, and you loved her, so you might as well go for it. Take her out!"

"We went to dinner," he said, voice calm. He reiterated. "I took her out to dinner last week."

"Oh..." Pansy nodded. Yep. Nodding. Because what else was she supposed to do, congratulate him on his reunion? He got to get back with his girl and she was the Clueless Idiot who threw up in his kitchen in front of a bunch of his friends.

Super.

"She told me she's divorcing Ernie. And she wanted to get back together with me."

Was her eye twitching?

"That she missed me, she made a mistake when she married Ernie instead of me."

Oh, she was going to punch Hannah right in the face. With a mushroom. A BIG ONE.

"And I nearly... died of boredom," he finished, effectively cutting off her rage.

"...Boredom, huh?" Pansy tried not to laugh but it was hard. She didn't want to smile and encourage him. But that was it right there. Plain as day. She'd been bored too, until she started dating Neville.

"You're not supposed to be bored by the woman you love. I mean, I would think..."

He stepped forward, placing both hands on her shoulders. "I'm not bored by the woman that I love. She just drives me _fucking crazy_!"

"Crazy huh? Crazy!? I drive you crazy?!"

"Yeah!"

"Yeah?!

"YEAH!"

She rushed up and got in his face, grabbing the front of his shirt. Kissing him so hard she thought she was going to lose her head. But the best part was he responded in kind. Grabbing at her legs until they wrapped around his waist and kissing her back with all zeal of not having seen each other in a month.

So much they tipped over into the grass. Frantically, she reached for his jeans, pulling the zipper with way too much energy.

"Ahhh," he trembled, rolling over until he pinned her to the ground with his body. Her hair spread out over the green grass as she laid back. With one hand he shoved his jeans down before he grabbed the silk of her dress and pushed up until it bunched at her waist. Until he was free and between her legs, pinning her arms above her head.

"Neville..." she questioned, already out of breath as he shoved her panties to the side. This wasn't anything like his norm. Usually, he would take his time before—"Oh God!"

Hands holding her down, he didn't wait for her to get used to him before he started pounding her into the ground. Fucking her so hard they were tearing grass from the earth and screaming with each forceful stroke.

Way better than any bed squeaking.

So good it felt as if he ripped the orgasm straight from her when she came, her vision blurring and her scream splitting the air.

"Fuck," he gasped, rolling away. Breathing heavily. After a moment, he pulled her to his chest, where she lay her head over his heart and attempted to catch her breath.

It hadn't taken long, but Neville just managed to give her the biggest orgasm she'd ever had in her life.

"Sorry... missed you..."

"I couldn't tell." Her chest heaved with the effort to draw breath. "Really, hadn't a clue whatsoever. Listen... I have to come clean about something."

"... okay?"

"I squished your Emoritas at work this week."

A slow laughter had her head bouncing against his chest as he squeezed her in a hug. Then he began pulling grass from her hair. "I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing for exactly? Because I definitely wouldn't mind another couple of rounds like that."

Neville continued to squeeze her in a hug, seemingly afraid to let go. "No, not that. I'm sorry about Hannah. That night... I don't know why. Seeing her just surprised me. By the time I realized what I did, you were gone."

She pulled away, coming up on her elbows beside him. Her entire body tingled from their rough round of grass sex and it made her mind fuzzy, but she didn't want to mess up. Not this. "I'm giving you an out," she said, catching his eye. "One chance to go to her. To Hannah... if you want."

"No," he looked hurt at her suggestion, fingers rising to cup her cheek. "Please no. I mean it, Mushroom Queen. I remember being so, hopelessly in love with her but that dinner... I was bored. She's _boring_. I'd much rather be with my chubby, sarcastic demon."

Pansy smiled, heart doing that pitter patter thing it only ever did with him. And she couldn't help but tease him. "Did you just call me 'chubby'? Wow. You think I'm fat, don't you?"

"Wha-no-wait!"

She rolled away and stumbled up to her feet, laughing the entire time. He chased after her. "Wow, you took another woman to dinner," she cried out dramatically, just dodging him as he attempted to capture her. She only managed it because he was holding his jeans up with one hand. "And now you say I'm fat!"

He finally did up his jeans mid-stride and made a mad dash after her, making her squeal with laughter. He caught her around the waist and spun her around, squeezing her ass as he lifted her into a kiss. Smiling the whole time. "Come take a shower with me, fatty."

" _Excuse meeee_?" she wiggled, digging her fingers into his hair and tugging meanly. "What did you just call me, sir?!"

"Nothing," he grinned, squeezing her ass again with his hands, carrying her through the yard towards the house. "How many cheese puffs have you eaten this week?"

"Um, none," she lied as he took them into the house and up the stairs. "I'm the pinnacle of healthy eating. Thank you very much. I had a salad for lunch this week. On Wednesday. At my 6-month review. Guess who got a raise?"

Neville grinned, genuinely happy for her success. "Hmm, let me guess… Dewey?"

"Ooooo," she pretended to get angry. "I so regret teaching you how to be snarky."

"I think you got it from me, to be honest."

.

They did get around to taking that shower, but it was after spending all day in bed. The shower itself had been hot, and not because of the water either. Afterwards, she sat on his kitchen counter wearing only one of his comfy t-shirts watching him slice up cheese and fruit for them to snack on.

He hadn't bothered with a shirt. And she could only thank the gods for that.

Especially when he started feeding her sharp, salty cheese on top of crackers and slices of green apple to go with it. "Mmm…"

"You're the only person I know who actually moans when they eat," he said, leaning close by, queuing up bite sized snacks to feed her.

"I can't help it, food is so good," she nuzzled his shoulder. "I had nothing when I left school, Nev. Food was a luxury. God, I still think about that night you brought me groceries. That cream cheese spread…" she moaned again, just remembering it. Could she eat a bagel right then? Absolutely.

"Pansy," he lifted her face up with loving fingers, pressing his forehead into hers.

She grabbed onto his shoulders, leaning into him. Realizing this was not a moment to tease and be silly. "I'm sorry, Nev. You're right—and you know I hate to admit that. I'm no good at relationships. I shouldn't have cut you out like that, no matter how hurt I was."

"I'll forgive you if you forgive me," he said. And it made her smile. Because Neville meant what he said.

"Yeah," she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tight, pressing kisses all over his face. Making him grin. "But," she pulled back suddenly. "If you ever ditch me in the middle of sex… for any reason other than imminent danger… let's just say you're gonna get it."

"Why would I?" he asked, gesturing to her. " _When I coulda had this_?"

"Nooooo," she covered her face with her hands. "I can't believe I got that drunk. I can't ever face your friends again. I am _mortified_."

"Yeah—about that…" he leaned back. "I have to go to this thing tomorrow, like a reunion sort of thing. For the DA. You want to come with me?"

Pansy winced. "Like… all your friends… in one place? At one time?"

"All my friends… and Hannah."

She pretended to gag, and Neville jumped several feet back. Making them both laugh. "Oh fine," she said, rolling her eyes. "But I really might commit arson. No promises."

.

Pansy used her wand to turn one of her new dresses into a killer red color and was in the process of trying it on when there was a knock at the front door.

Show time.

Her and Neville were definitely back on. In fact, she kinda loved him more than ever after spending all day and night together. Fucking. Eating. But also talking and catching up on everything they missed in the last month.

But Daphne and Tracey didn't know that.

She heard Tracey shout out, "I'll get it, you lazy cows," after the third knock came. The sound of her walking across the living room floor. The lock turning. The door swinging open.

"Well, well, well," Tracey drawled loud enough for the entire house to hear. "Look who it is."

"Hello, Tracey," Neville said sweetly. "How are you?"

"Oh, oh I'm fine. I'm really good, in fact—DAPHNE!" she shrieked.

"Actually I'm here for Pan-"

"OH. MY. GOD." Daphne's voice made Pansy's ears ring, even through the wall. "Neville Longbottom. You know, you're just the man I've been wanting to see at my doorstep."

"Uh…"

Giggling, Pansy knew Neville realized he was in trouble. She turned to the side, making sure her dress looked good from the back. Yep. Her backside was looking nice in this baby.

"We've been waiting for you, Mr. Longbottom," Daphne purred. "We have some things to discuss about your bad manners."

"More specifically, your bad manners towards our dear friend Pansy."

"Pansy, who is basically like our sister."

"Our sister we would die for."

"Our sister that we would -kill- for."

"Who we love so dearly and who you decided to treat so poorly-"

"Okay, ladies, please," Neville said, his voice slightly higher than usual. Pansy imagined his hands up in the air, as if in surrender. "Pansy and I worked out our problems—a"

"You did?"

"Did you?"

"She didn't mention anything to me about that. Daphne?"

"No, nothing to me either."

"You wouldn't be lying to us right now, Neville?"

"Lying would be a bad idea."

"No! No! I swear!"

"That would be a terrible mistake."

"Truly terrible, we would not take kindly to a lie like that, would we Trace?"

"We wouldn't not, Daphne."

"Now listen," Neville squeaked.

Pansy heard the front door slam and a giant shuffle through the living room, the couch getting bumped, someone stubbed their toe. And finally, Neville started screaming. "NO WAIT. REALLY! WAIT! PANSY!"

She just slid into a strappy pair of sandals to complete her outfit before she opened her bedroom door. "Oh, hi Neville. What ever could you be doing here?"

Tracey had him pinned to the couch with ropes as Daphne rudely pulled off Neville's shoe and sock, sitting on his legs to keep him still. A giant can of whip cream in her hand. She sprayed some between his toes, as he wiggled, attempting to get free.

Tracey was straddling him too, her back to Daphne's. She leaned over and pinched his cheeks before shoving his own sock in his mouth. "You'll go on the wall with Wilbert if you ever hurt her again, Longbottom."

All four of them looked to the taxidermy pig head on the wall. Sweet Willy.

"Oink oink," Daphne cackled evilly. Tracey joined her.

"I'm craving a sausage roll, right now."

"I'd love a pork roast dinner right now."

"Some potatoes."

"Cranberry sauce."

"Sounds good to me, how about you Nev?"

"Yeah, Nev, what do you think?"

He couldn't speak due to the gag in his mouth. But his look said ' _Help_ '.

"Aww, sweetie," Pansy loomed over him, petting her fingers through his hair. "Would you like me to tell them to stop?"

He nodded pathetically.

"Alright ladies, leave my man alone," Pansy said, smiling so big it hurt her cheeks.

"Your man?"

"Aww, how sweet."

"Very cute, I must say."

"Does this mean you've forgiven him, Pansy?"

"Truly forgiven him?"

"I have, we had a lovely day together yesterday. Lots of talking and forgiving and growing."

"Ew, where's the sex?" Daphne crawled off Neville, giving him a saucy wink. "Come by my room later if you feel you're missing out, darling. I'll keep the whip cream cool."

"Or mine," Tracey grabbed his chin with her fingers, squeezing him before she also stood up. "I'll keep the ropes, just in case."

With a flick of her wand those ropes unbound from Neville's body and flew off into Tracey's room before she slipped off.

Pansy reached out and grabbed Neville's sock out of his mouth. "Ew…"

He lay on the couch, panting, a thousand yard stare on his face and whip cream between his toes. He finally blinked up at her and broke out into a smile. "You look beautiful... is that a new dress?"

Pansy nodded. "And you look a right mess," she handed him his slightly damp sock.

"We'll be late too," he grinned, glancing at his watch. "Do Daphne and Tracey want to come?"

Pansy burst out laughing. "Don't you think it's bad enough I'm going? You think you should bring all three of us? The entire place will probably burst into flames. Oh that does sound like fun actually."

"We can hit up the party fashionably late, and then leave early and grab dinner," Neville suggested.

"Did he say dinner?" - "What about dinner?" Daphne and Tracey poked their heads out of their rooms at the same time.

"My treat," Neville sat up, using his wand to clean out the whip cream between his toes.

Immediately there was a ruckus of noise and cheers as both Daphne and Tracey rushed to get ready.

"Sweetie, you shouldn't reward their behavior," Pansy laughed, sitting down in his lap. She wrapped arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

"H-how should I reward this behavior?" he asked, cheeks turning red.

She nuzzled him, pressing kisses along his jaw. "Snaaaackkkks!"

"You are the snack," he said, catching her lips with his. They made out the entire 20 minutes it took for her roommates to get dressed up.

The four of them showed up extremely late, crashing the DA's reunion. According to Neville, the party was being held at Harry's house. A place Pansy never expected to visit in her entire life. There were a lot of Gryffindors about.

Who all watched them enter the house looking downright perplexed. It was worse than when she showed up to Neville's birthday party last year. Mostly because there were way more people. Including Hannah, who was in the corner glaring daggers at her. And Daphne and Tracey entered behind her, holding each other's arms, being loud as hell. What else was new?

But Pansy didn't want to make Neville uncomfortable by getting off the wrong foot with all his friends. She spotted Harry and marched right over to him, dragging Neville with her. "Harry! Heyyyy!"

She'd brought a bottle of wine and handed it to him then, pressing a kiss into each of his cheeks. "So, where's the ketchup?"

Immediately he burst into laughter. So did Ron, who was across the room, and Dean and Seamus who were nearby, talking to Terry Boot. It eased the tension immediately and everyone else went back to their own conversations and dancing.

Ron came over and crushed her in a giant hug, chanting, "You coulda had this! You coulda had this!"

She joined him, dancing around like an idiot. Pointing to herself with her thumbs. "Coulda had thisss!" she laughed, turning back to Neville. "Ooops. Too soon, honey?"

"Gross," he told her. "They can all laugh about Friday night because they didn't have to clean it up."

"What happened Friday night?" Ginny asked, stepping into the space between Harry and Ron. The witch eyed Pansy up with suspicion.

"Nothing," Pansy shrugged, leaning her back into Neville's chest. "I certainly didn't get hideously drunk at dinner and then stumble over to Nev's place, trash his kitchen, and throw up a Mexican restaurant in front of all his friends. No. Definitely not. Not me."

"No?" Nev asked, looking down at her. "Must've been my other girlfriend."

"Exactly how many girlfriends do you have right now?" Ginny asked, but Pansy caught the hint of a smile on her face. And how Hannah had positioned herself close enough to hear their conversation.

Daphne and Tracey noticed it too. Bless them.

"Yeah, Nev," Pansy turned, ready to fan the fire. "Tell everyone how many girlfriends you have right now."

Tracey and Daphne both stepped forward and took Neville's arms, left and right respectively. Grinning like vultures. "Just us I think, Pansy," Daphne cooed.

"How would he have time for anyone else but us witches three?" Tracey reached up to pet his cheek. Which turned bright red as he looked heaven forward.

"You should have seen what we did to his toes earlier," Daphne winked at Ginny.

"There was whip cream involved," Pansy informed everyone. She didn't think Neville's face could get any redder. He looked brighter than a tomato.

"And rope," Daphne made kissy sounds really close to Nev's cheek.

"Neville," Ron waved. "Blink twice if you're in danger."

"To be determined," he deadpanned, giving Pansy a wink. Just one. "Hate to drop in and leave, but I have a dinner date with three gorgeous women, one of which is my girlfriend. It was nice to see everyone though."

"Probably for the best," Hannah said, forcing herself in the space between Ginny and Ron. Both of which looked annoyed for it. "This is, after all, a gathering for members of the DA. Which I am, and I don't recall seeing any of you three there."

"Me-ow," Daphne rolled her eyes as Tracey did cat-claws. "Here kitty kitty."

Weirdly, Pansy didn't mind Hannah trying to start some drama, though she kind of wanted to see a portabella mushroom sprout from her head.

But because she was fortunate enough to have two amazing friends who would go wild on her behalf. Daph and Tracey were crazy, to be sure, but with Neville they seemed to go the extra mile. And true to form, Neville seemed to enjoy being teased and picked on by the three of them.

Especially as they crowded around him in defense. Creating a human barrier between him and his vicious ex. Pansy felt bad for Hannah. The witch was going through a divorce—and that couldn't be easy. Now she had to watch her ex, who she tried to reunite with, come in with three different women on his arms.

Ha.

"Well I know I wasn't," Pansy announced loudly, drawing attention to herself. She bumped Tracey with her hip, scooting her out of the way so Pansy could take her place by Neville's side. "I was crawling the halls as a Prefect, stealing candy from first years, and looking for any reason to subtract points from annoying little Gryffindors."

"Don't worry, we noticed," Neville laughed. "You were a menace."

"Were?" Hannah scoffed.

Pansy ignored her, and gasped dramatically. "That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me! Well, except for that one time you called me a shrieking banshee. That was so-oo-oo sweet."

"Don't worry, she's still a menace," Daphne told everyone proudly. "Can't beat our Pansy."

"Nope," Tracey agreed. "She's too tough."

Ginny laughed the loudest. "Me-ow," she said to Hannah before tugging Harry's hand, pulling him away for a dance.

Ron hugged Pansy again before going off to find his own dance partner. "Can't wait to see you again, Ms. Menace."

Neville wrapped an arm around Pansy's waist afterwards. "Ready for dinner, love?"

"Ooo... the magic word. _Dinner_."

"I thought the magic word was dessert?"

"Can we get dessert?"

"We love dessert."

"Can't have dinner without dessert."

"Bye Hannah," Neville said politely, squeezing Pansy tight to himself. Choosing her. The four of them left then, effectively leaving Hannah alone, her drama unsatisfied.

.

Pansy sauntered on over to Neville's place and let herself in the front door. She followed the smell of garlic and butter to the kitchen and hugged him from behind, nuzzling his back between his shoulder blades. "Are you cooking dinner?"

"No, I'm filing my taxes."

"Oh, in that case, I'm outta here then," she pretended to walk away before he caught her hand and tugged her back in for a big, bear hug.

"How did it go?" he asked, his hug lingering.

"It's mine."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." As usual, when she smiled at Neville, it hurt her cheeks. But she couldn't help it. He brought the intense feelings of happiness right out of her, whether she wanted them to or not. How did she ever survive a whole month without him? She got drunk, and acted like a right fool in front of him, saying he could have had her. Well, she was lucky to have him. Hands down.

She hopped up on the counter to watch him cook and catch up on the good news. "Paper work is signed, my T's are crossed and my I's are dotted... I'm a home owner. Beware!"

"Have you told the girls yet?" he asked, bringing up the wooden spoon to her lips.

"Mmm," she tasted the garlicky, cheesy sauce. Watching him feed her did things to her body she wasn't prepared for. "What are you making? And no, let them fret about their living situation. They keep trying to pack my clothes in their boxes. Can't wait to tell them they have to unpack."

"You're cruel. Also, mushroom fettuccine. Sound good?"

"Uh, yes. Tastes good too, what kind of mushrooms did you get?"

"Porcini and some baby bellas too," he said. He had them lightly searing in a different pan, which is where all the garlic and buttery scents seemed to be coming from. It smelled amazing.

"Where did you learn to cook?"

"Uh, well," he said, in control of his stove. "My Gran always said there was nothing more useless than a man who couldn't feed himself and she wouldn't raise a son who expected a woman to do it for him."

"Ahh, the Granny. Wish I could have met her."

"Me too," he said, sounding blue. He would always regret not reconciling with his grandmother before she passed away. But then he winced. "Though... to be honest... she probably would have hated you."

Pansy gasped. "Why? I'm such a radiant, pleasant person to be around."

"Mmhmm, of course you are, love." He leaned over and pressed kiss into her cheek. Making her swoon. Just slightly. A mini-swoon. "No, she just didn't put up with nonsense."

"Nonsense? I'm full of sense. Maybe not _full_. More than half. Definitely. I'm at least 65% sense."

"And 35% cheese puff," he shot back.

"I'm 35% done with your shit, Longbottom," she grabbed at his shirt and pulled him into the space between her legs. Where he went willingly.

"Is that all? Well this is a perfect time to bring up something I've been wanting to ask you. There might even be a bribe in the fridge."

She raised an eyebrow and pushed him away, too curious for her own good. Heading over to the refrigerator where she pulled open the door and looked inside. "BEHOLD!" she cried out, beyond excited for the dessert. "The most beautiful work of art I have ever gazed upon with my own two eyes... Oh, Neville... you know I would do anything—literally anything—for tiramisu."

"Anything huh?" he wiggled his eyebrows as he removed everything from the stove, tossing the buttery mushrooms in with noodles and the cream sauce into a big serving bowl.

"Anything," she reiterated, daring him. She would definitely get slutty for a slice of cake. Especially with him. Only with him. She brought the slice of cake out and went for the silverware drawer. Life was too short to wait for cake. It was dusted with chocolate and had loopy chocolatey things on top.

"Move in with me?" he asked, suddenly shy and going quiet. Heart on the table. Or rather, the tiramisu.

Um. WHAT?

"I just purchased the townhouse from Cliff," Pansy mumbled, feeling in a daze, holding the cake in one hand and a fork in the other.

"You can rent it out to Daphne and Tracey, it will supplement your income and if—you know," he gulped, setting everything aside and giving her his full attention. "If we... if I... fuck it up again, you always have a place to go."

"What a pitch," she tried to laugh but she was suddenly too nervous, even for sarcasm. She just hadn't even thought about the possibility of moving in with Neville, despite her roommates saying otherwise. Because they had talked about taking things slow on many occasions.

Slow was good for her—she wasn't an idiot, she knew how bad she was at relationships. And he'd been burned before.

"Let me try again," he held up a finger, attempting to collect his thoughts. "I missed you like crazy."

"When we broke up."

"No, before that. When you moved up two floors and out of the office. Not to say that I wasn't totally chapped for your promotion—because I was and still am—but then you weren't in the office every day. Acting insane and aloof and wonderfully weird all the time. Giving me shit for no reason. Stealing from my cookie stash."

"You missed that?"

He nodded, stepping forward until there was barely any space between them. "Yes," he said, completely serious. "I don't just love you. I love being with you. And even with Tracey and Daphne too. Though, the three of you are insane and should not be allowed out in public together."

Pansy laughed, hard, and set their dessert aside as he did with the food. Then she wrapped her arms around his shoulders so she could get even closer. "I guess you must love me if you put up with us so well."

"I'm not asking you to marry me—"

"I would say yes," Pansy interrupted, gazing into his eyes softly. "When you ask, far, far in the future, I'll say yes. Unless you do something really dumb like make me eat brussel sprouts or call me sweet and actually mean it. But for now... in regards to moving in with you..."

He held his breath. Waiting. Watching her closely. She dragged it on and on and on... until... "I better try that tiramisu first. I can't live with someone who gets subpar tiramisu and just expects me to put up with such distasteful behavior."

"Okay," he grinned. He knew it. She knew it. She was hooked.

"Also I can't live with someone who doesn't give me back rubs at night either," she continued, grabbing the cake and feeding him a bite. He ate it slowly, watching her the entire time. Then he returned the favor, allowing the fork to linger in her mouth.

"Good?" he asked, voice low and filling her with warmth.

"I uh—" Fuck yes it was good. Better than good. Orgasmic good. "I don't know, I better have another try..."

Neville indulged her, bringing the fork back to her lips with another, bigger bite. She opened her mouth, but he leaned in and kissed her before serving her the second forkful. Pansy licked her lips, beyond satisfied with the lingering taste of chocolate and coffee... and Neville. "I can do this all night," he whispered in her ear, the implication clear. All night, and for always.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Prove it."


End file.
